


Our Own Sky

by Wyrdmazer



Series: Translated Works [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hogwarts, M/M, Scorbus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 08:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13830417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyrdmazer/pseuds/Wyrdmazer
Summary: You're like a bird that didn't know it could fly.





	Our Own Sky

I mount my broom and look up.

You are looking at me unsurely for a moment, and then you mimic my movements. I have a fleeting impression that you'll ask, again, if this is really a good idea. I would reply the same as at the last seventeen times; but you've probably already learned your lesson, because you nod. It's a sign that everything's alright.

Without a word, I take off the ground, not too much: just enough to rise freely.

I look at you, hovering a few feet above the ground. The green of your bright eyes is hiding under your eyelids as you squint (good thing that the sky today is a fluffy, grey quilt). A familiar grimace of discouragement blooms on your face.

"Come on, Al! There's nothing to be afraid of. Just take off and don't let go of the broom."

You roll your eyes. Despite the situation, I giggle under my breath; your 'as if I was going to let go of anything at all' doesn't need verbalization.

I sweep my eyes over your whole form; they only stop for a moment on your hands which are almost white because you're squeezing the shaft of the broom as though it had the power to protect you from all the evil of the world.

I am with you when you finally leave the solid ground. I assist you with my presence, hoping that it works.

I believe in you, even though you don't believe in yourself. But this time, Al, I am not enough.

I know you know that.

You hover in the air; we are two feet above the ground.

I smile, but you don't see it; your eyes remain trained on a distant point of the pitch.

"Alright, try to relax now. This is supposed to be fun, not torture."

You take your eyes off the ground for a moment, and when you fix them on me, I know that you would have little resistance to throwing some fancy hex at me.

Damn it, I'm lucky I do mean something to you after all.

"Do note that not everyone has to love pretending to be a bird. And a marginal note: I am trying."

You deliver this last bit through clenched teeth, and although I believe you, I can't resist:

"But you're doing it wrong. Do you even know what it means 'to relax'?"

You send lightning bolts at me again.

"Fine, fine, it was just a joke. Do as you can," I calm you down with a light voice, and as you visibly release the tension, I let you know, "You're doing good".

You let out a deep breath that gives rise to a series of even breaths. I watch as you're focusing. Your hair is not too long, but loose strands dance unrulily on the occasional gusts of wind. I look at the individual strands. Part of them sits cozily behind the collar of your green sweater.

"Alright. What now?"

I meet your eyes as you look at me expectantly. Your voice is calm and soft, just like each your "goodnight" before I fall asleep.

For a moment, I wonder what you were thinking about.

I lean slightly towards the shaft of the broom, adjusting my loosened grip.

"We'll have a little fly. Ready for a leap?" I gaze around the pitch, completing the question.

Your lower lip disappears between your teeth as you survey the route. You sigh briefly.

"I won't be any more ready, I guess" you murmur; you sound less sure.

"Just stick to me. Side by side, okay? We'll fly slowly. If something's wrong, let me know immediately. One lap; will be enough for now."

You nod.

I smile at you as if it was a spell to banish fear; to my joy, you reciprocate the gesture fully.

My heart speeds up: here is another passion that I can share with you. At least a little bit. I want to hug you with my whole body, but it has to wait. Hmm, unfortunately.

I make sure your position is good. And then I take off.

You're right next to me, not too close nor too far away.

Lightness enchants my every cell, the wind caresses my skin and combs through my hair. Earth, under us, stores heavy stones; there is only spirit in the air.

I feel you next to me, as you swim through the space with me. Your deep breathing plays a subtle melody when molecules of oxygen meet my body. I close my eyes in delight, a smile melts on my lips. They are cold; I wet them with my tongue.

Euphoria tugs at my nerves, my tissues; I want to shoot up, high above the ground, into the clouds, and fly like a hungry hawk towards its prey.

My prey is freedom.

But... I won't leave you. You trust me, probably more than you trust yourself. I am with you. I am, and I will be.

I glance at you. As if a signal passed between us – an invisible trickle of energy – you do the same. A wide smile appears out of nowhere; your eyes are shining. You're beautiful.

"Faster!" You laugh, and when I frown in question, you nod with a decisiveness that I would rather expect from you on a suggestion to return to the ground.

The corners of my lips lift up and I look ahead, increasing my speed. You've been waiting for me to do it.

"Brilliant!" you yell, and despite the glee in your tone, I can hear that it's still not enough.

I check your posture, your grip, to make sure that you haven't forgotten yourself; and when I focus on your face for a moment, my heart leaps in my ribcage because you aren't rigid anymore. Now, you are watching the world with a new fascination. You look like you've just discovered one of your secrets.

It's a wonderful sight.

***

In the end, we did six laps. Not much faster.

We are on the ground again, brooms in hands, faces sweaty. Yours because in spite of the initial aversion, you were not afraid to try some banal acrobatics, and mine because I was scared that you would end up with a broken bone at least.

Thanks be to the Potter genes... (and: _bloody them!_ – because apparently, they didn't feel like revealing themselves earlier).

"Woohoo! right now, I love life..." you sigh, stretching your body. I love this sight.

And then, without any warning, you gather me in your arms and I think I hear the creaking of some of my ribs when you squeeze me in euphoric passion.

"You're the best," you breathe, and I feel probably good like never before.

When I manage to free my hands, I return the hug, run my hands over your back, loving the heat emanating from you.

"I'm glad," I murmur, closing my eyes, burying my face in your hair. You smell of October, yourself and that rich and warm something that sends electricity through my spine.

I sigh, feeling like in heaven.

It's so much better than wind, heights and sky-high travels. I wouldn't give it back for _anything_.

"I'm glad too," you whisper. "That I listened to you."

***

"Do you think I could have a knack for it? You know, for Quidditch."

I rise from my knees, having put my beloved Nimbus down in the safe place under my bed, and watch you for a few seconds, thinking.

"Nothing's really unlikely. But no rush here. You can be dangerous when you get carried away."

The springs groan quietly under the soft mattress when I plop down lightly onto the spot next to you. I lean back, propping myself up on my arms.

"I'll take it as a compliment nevertheless," you say with nonchalance in your voice.

"But you did great anyway. Seriously. Who would have expected, right? With that trauma of yours." I nudge your knee with mine.

"Hey, no such thing," you bristle, returning the gesture. "It's just that I never could grasp it."

"Because you never tried." I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. "Except that one time in our first year."

You snort.

"A human thing to get discouraged. Innit?"

All my muscles tense up in a fraction of a second as you poke me in the side with a finger.

"Hey!" I bat your hand away before you try to repeat the movement. You shrug with an innocent face. "Hmm, and I thought you were supposed to be _so stubborn_ , huh?"

A hint of a sneer creeps into my smile, at which you squint in cool boredom.

"But you know it doesn't have to be all the way," you retort, sneaking your left arm under my ribs. Your right arm moves in an analogical way when, in an eyeblink, you straddle my thighs.

I feel hot at once and everything in me freezes.

And then you cling to me, squeezing me with all your strength, and I have a distinct impression that you want to strangle me.

"Al, what–oh! Come on, stop that!" I barely utter as you squeeze me even harder. Damn, that you are even able to.

I collapse on the bed, you with me, because my hands that were supporting me are now fighting yours when you play in pretending to be Devil's Snare.

You lie down on top of me, your head rests next to mine, your knees squeezing my hips, and I can hardly move.

"Shhh... Lie calmly, Scorp," you hum, straight into my ear. "Naughty boys don't get presents."

After that, I feel like exploding with hysterical laughter. And I cannot restrain myself. I can barely breathe, which does not help, but strange sounds that could hardly be counted as laughter find their way out of my throat.

The tightness around my ribs loosens; I think I've infected you: I hear your discreet laughter.

After a minute, it's quiet and peaceful again. I lie, breathing deeply, crushed by you, staring at the emerald canopy; tears blurring my sight. I wipe them with my fingers.

I hear you sigh.

"Stop breathing at me, would you?"

As soon as the request leaves my lips, a deep yawn opens them wide.

"Is it bothering you?"

Not really.

"Never mind."

At that, you snuggle into me, and I can literally feel your smile as your lips meet the skin on my neck.

I sigh, not quite recognizing the feelings that live in me at that moment.

As if guided by an order, I raise my hand and tangle it in your hair. I feel warmth and softness. Everywhere. It's so warm and soft...

Another yawn, this time weaker, escapes me.

I close my eyes. My fingers glide lazily through the thicket of black strands on your head.

It would be nice to fall asleep like this...

"Sweat is sexy sometimes, but shower is a good thing." Your weight and warmth leave my body when you lift yourself up and hover over me, propped on your arms on either side of my head. You stare at me with a hint of anticipation.

I blink sleepily.

"Mhm..." I murmur, signalling that the message has come to my consciousness, although reluctantly embracing the knowledge that there are a few things to be done yet before sleep. "Yeah, alright. Get off." I pat you on the thigh.

You get off the bed obediently.

You stretch like a cat as I pad over to my own bed with an accompaniment of another yawn to take my pajamas out from under my pillow.

Before I even take a step in the direction of the bathroom, you stand behind me, almost clinging to me as your hands wrap around my torso.

"Tired?" You put your head on my shoulder, rubbing your nose against my cheek. "You'll fall asleep there and drown." I hear a smile in your voice. "Maybe I'll help you?"

The amusedness of your suggestion makes itself known in the form of a quiet snort, though it could have mixed with something else when you move your hand over my chest. I lean into you mindlessly, craving your touch.

"Noble you, but have no fears; I promise you I will come back alive."

This time you giggle – at my ostentatious reply.

Your warm breath dances for a few sweet moments over my neck, and then a wetness meets my skin and a short shiver shakes my body when you plant a tender kiss right under my ear.

I sigh softly, wanting to get back to bed immediately. With you.

"There will be more of that later," you whisper enticingly, letting me out of your embrace, giving my buttock a playful slap on the way.

I open my eyes and turn around, curious of your face. You're biting your lip with an impish smile.

I shake my head, almost not getting over what you can do to me.

"Do encourage me like that every time..." I trail off suggestively, letting you finish the sentence for yourself.

A playful smile turns into a full-on grin. I rarely see you so pleased.

"That can be done."

I give a salute to you, before finally heading towards the bathroom.

Cold for a start wouldn't be too bad of an idea...

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with yet another translation (this time, of my "Nasze własne niebo") for you; I hope you enjoyed. :) I'm doing my best, however do not hesitate to let me know of any noticed mistakes.   
> Comments and kudos are love, as always.


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